


The Devil's Groom

by SomeA (DWM)



Category: Avengers (Comic)
Genre: Gore, M/M, Mentions of Necrophilia, Minor Character Death, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-27
Updated: 2011-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-24 02:19:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DWM/pseuds/SomeA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a kink_meme prompt:<br/>"So yeah, I see the Meme is awash with Steve/Tony, but I have this prompt in my head and I can barely stand myself!</p><p>So, we all remember that time where the Evil!Tony from an AU world showed up and hated Reed and got all wibbly when he saw this world's Cap was alive, yes? I want Evil!Tony's Steve from the AU to somehow come back to life, and go looking for his vanished lover.</p><p>He shows up, finds E!Tony, busts him out, and they have wild raunchy possessive "I'm going to fuck you so hard that you taste me" sex.</p><p>Kink? Infront of some captured Avengers. Our Tony, Steve, Clint, Rhodey, hell anyone you want! Voyeurism ftw!</p><p>Oh please, please Anon, you're my only hope."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil's Groom

**Author's Note:**

> Abandon hope all ye who enter here.
> 
> This is awfully gory, awfully violent, awfully rape-y. Be warned.

Commander Rogers was wearing strange clothing today. Not his usual uniform but a well-worn old version of his Captain America costume. It must’ve been pretty old and obscure because Agent Dean couldn’t recognize that costume version and he was almost sure he wouldn’t find it in the SHIELD’s Captain America archives. For one, the thing was more patchwork than anything and the blue was a sad opaque tone edging on dark gray. It was also dirty all over and maroon stains covered most of the chest area.

But the man hadn’t shown any surprise or hesitation when other agents had addressed him as Commander and asked for orders pertaining their current mission in the Middle East, nor had he seemed to not recognize them. He’d even passed the retinal, DNA and fingertips tests as well as the subtle interrogation by Agent Ross.

Commander Rogers was making rounds in the Helicarrier now, assisted by a very smug Agent Dean who was usually assigned to boring lab security and that had been a Captain America fan since almost all of his life.

“Remind me again, Agent—ah—Dean, what’s in this room?”

“It’s the Stasis Room, Sir.”

Commander Rogers ordered Agent Dean to open the door and soon enough both men were staring at the stasis tubes in the eerily green-lit room. There was a wide corridor in between the two rows of suspended-life support machinery; the small buttons in the control panel at its end blinked alternately between blue and yellow.

“This is…”

“Yes, Sir. Iron Maniac, Sir. His stasis tube had been transferred from the first Helicarrier to a ground facility under Mr. Osborn’s orders and later on relocated here by you, Sir.”

“Of course. I didn’t need you to tell me all of that, Agent.”

Commander Rogers rested his hands on the tube’s glass and looked intensely at the freak hosted inside. “How’s he?”

“Crazy, Sir, but pretty much healthy. The sedative’s formula must be changed every once and then before he grows immune to it.”

“Those scars…”

“He’s always had the ones on his face. The other ones are, there’s no info on them, actually. They look ugly, though.”

The body even had a big Y scar, as if the man had undergone an autopsy. It almost made Agent Dean sick.

Commander Rogers’ hands pressed tightly against the glass and a low ominous sound escaped it, a bit more and he could very well be breaking the maniac’s liquid prison. “The one on his upper right arm, he got it while fighting the Skrulls back in better times, easier, saner times.”

“Excuse me, Sir?”

“The one on his left calf, he got it in the Savage Land, the Avengers’ second crashing there had been bad but the mutated cybernetically enhanced T-Rex had been worse and highly lethal.” Commander Rogers face was twisted in anger, his hands cracking the water tank.

“S-Sir?”

“But these, these scars on his abdomen, the big one across his chest--” If looks could pierce through glass, Iron Maniac would be already free. Commander Rogers gaze was frenzied, face livid, jaw set, tight, his teeth grinding. “Who did these to him?”

Agent Dean was reaching for his communicator to ask for back up when a big strong hand closed around his neck and then the world blurred when his head crashed against the prisoner’s container. He couldn’t breathe, water surrounded him and pain flared everywhere as glass shards pierced the skin on his neck and face.

He was repeatedly bashed against the stasis tube, a hand on the back of his skull securing him in an iron grip, using him like one would use a rock to shatter the crystal. A shard encrusted in his neck was pushed even deeper, dragged upwards by the water surrounding him and the force of the last shove and as the tube drained, green liquid contaminated with thick red, Agent Dean’s last thought was that today he should’ve stayed home just like his horoscope had suggested. His lucky color had been yellow but his yellow socks had been in the laundry.  


\--  


Iron Maniac’s body lay on the floor, murky liquid seeping around and under him but safely placed far from any glass shards, a SHIELD Agent’s corpse still bleeding dry a few inches away. The young man’s face was unrecognizable; it was marred with cuts, blood and sharp remains of a stasis tube. Above the still sleeping villain, a Steve Rogers’ perfect doppelganger kneeled, one hand on the air ready to drop down hard.

Slap!

The crazy Stark didn’t wake.

SLAP! This time a brutal clash of a heavy hand on marred flesh.

But the sedatives were strong, SHIELD’s best formula partly concocted by Osborn himself --the man was nuts but not stupid, he wouldn’t risk a second Iron Maniac’s escape. Stark remained impassive, all limp body and slack face.

“I swear if you are dead I’m gonna--“

Slate blue eyes blinked open and in a flash a quick left jab was swung towards the Steve Rogers impersonator, followed by a vicious kick to the groin, which was as skillfully dodged as the first attack. The blond man had all the reflexes of the original Captain America; he was already on his feet, ready for battle, grinning madly.

“WHAT? Cut me open yet again? I bet you even get off on it, don’t you? You call yourselves heroes in this world but how are you better than me?” Iron Maniac snarled, fists up, his body in a too familiar stance.

A lighting fast punch from the ‘Commander Rogers’ to his gut and then a kick to the head had Stark on all fours heaving. His mouth oozed with a green viscous liquid.

“You started the process but never finished. I woke up alone in your fucking basement, half dead, malnourished, dehydrated, most of my body mass gone and everything hurt like a bitch. I even wanted to be fucking dead again most days.” Accused outraged the twin image of Captain America and threw a nasty kick to the man on the floor; it turned him over and made him fall flat on his battered back with a grunt. When Stark failed to get up, he pressed the sole of a boot to the smooth side of his face. “It took me a whole year to get back to form.”

Iron Maniac’s eyes widened first in horror and then closed as he let out a deranged loud laugh. “You got to be kidding me. Goddamit, it’s you. It’s you, isn’t it? Tell me it’s you.” The boot on his face moved down his scarred body to rest between his legs. It pushed down and Stark let out groan. ”Ffffuck!”

“It’s me. I’d congratulate you on reactivating my Super Soldier Serum and bringing me back from the dead if you hadn’t done such a shit job of it.” A boot heel squished Stark’s balls and he bit his lip to hold back a cry.

“You are so f-fucking out of it m-man.”

“Aren’t we all?”

Another round of mad cackling was brought short by a coughing fit. When he could breathe again, Stark looked at his liberator.

“I needed a piece of equipment, it was something small, something simple, I-I thought I’d make Reed see reason. I was ready to bargain, to trade, for fuck’s sake, I was even willing to disclose the fucking remaining Avengers’ hideouts if need be. The treacherous dog cast me out to another reality.” Above him, Rogers accommodated his footing so he wasn’t crushing Starks’s exposed genitalia with his boot but cradling it instead on the steel toe.

“Without you to administer the stabilizers nor to regulate the machines’ work, my resurrection was but a miracle. Right?”

Stark hissed when the boot’s toe pushed against the sweet spot behind his balls. “Rogers, how…?”

“I read your notebooks, Stark.” The alternate Steve Rogers bounced Stark’s now half hard cock and testicles off of his toe, repeatedly, and leered. “I also watched the video recordings.”

At this, Iron Maniac gasped and his face paled. “All of them?”

“All. Of. Them.”

Stark rose to his feet and put up a good fight, the newest scars on his abdomen re-opening and bleeding some with the effort, before being forcefully shoved face down onto the floor, Rogers pinning him with his whole bulk.

“You molested my corpse, sick fucking bastard.” He growled and grabbed Stark’s hair, bending his head back so he could mutter directly into his ear “Every day.”

There was a struggle in which both monsters kicked, punched and snarled at each other, bodies twisting, one of them desperate to escape, spitting curses and threats; the other abusing his strength and advantage to force his prey into submission.

Iron Maniac’s atrophied arms reached shakily to the SHIELD agent’s corpse just a few feet away from him but found the dead cold hands empty. His hurried body search was also fruitless, no usable weapons on the body, and the measured footsteps behind him grew louder, closer.

Stark clung to the uniformed lifeless form under him to no avail. He was easily dragged through the mess on the floor, green gluey water, blood and shards sticking to him. He trashed and kicked. He bent, open wounds and all, to scratch at the hand holding his left foot. He was forced to stand on hands and knees, an arm locked around his neck to keep him in place, almost strangling him, the huge frame of his reality’s Captain America above him, legs pinned to the floor by a stronger muscled leg thrown over his calves.

“You cried the first and the second time, in the recordings.” Rogers’ voice was rough, his free hand slid between then to unzip tight leather pants. “I never knew…”

The forearm against his windpipe forced Stark to look upward, then a sharp movement from shoulder to elbow made his face turn sideways. This position let Rogers keep his balance on a hand, dislodge his other compromised one enough to reach a nipple and still keep him in place by securing the base of his head between the forearm and upper arm’s juncture. He pinched the nub hard.

Stark let out a pained yelp of which his assailant took advantage to invade his mouth with a claiming tongue. It pushed forcefully inside, entwined with his and urged it to move along in a wild dance of submission and domination. His mouth was thoroughly explored and brutally plundered.

“I never knew how you felt until I watched you fuck my dead body.” Said Rogers once he came up for air. “You cried.” The tip of his thick length nudged Stark’s opening startling a gasp out of him.

“Get off of me!” hollered Stark and tried to squirm away. He got a bruising bite at the nape of his neck for his efforts.

“You want this. Now I know.” Rogers pushed him down trapping his hands between his chest and the floor, immobilizing him even further. “I’ll hurt you good. I’ll split you open and you’ll whine and whimper like a bitch.”

Stark seemed to give up the fight momentarily until his comrade licked the burned side of his face. He let out an anguished howl and bucked frantically, tried to get a leg free and kick, tried to turn around and bite.

Once more Rogers pinned him onto the floor effortlessly. “You are still so beautiful Tony, don’t be ashamed of your scars.” He licked the largest one on the marred back below him. Stark went limp, his face scrunched. He closed his eyes with a chocked sob.

And then, despite his promises of pain, instead of just taking him raw, the broken Captain America coated his fingers with his own spit, not completely pleased with it, and shoved two fingers into Stark’s hole. He didn’t tease nor aroused, his movements were clinical, merely a mean to a goal. Didn’t wait long either to add a third finger.

Stark’s eyes were wet, tightly shut. He swallowed convulsively to drown his cries. To his credit, he didn’t scream when he was breached, too soon, too hard.

“F-Fuck you! Fuck you!”

“That’s it. You are so tight, it feels so good.” Wide hands rested on narrow hips and then gripped hard. Rogers began to move not too fast, not too slow. His Adam’s apple wobbled as he swallowed once, looking at the ceiling, arching in pleasure as Stark clenched around him. When he looked down again, he set to ride his partner in earnest.

“When I was –oh fuck, yes, squeeze me just like that, you’re so good- when I was strong enough to walk, I searched all around for you. T-Turned Latveria –gasp- upside down.” He gave a sharp thrust that made Stark moan and Rogers smiled at his victory.

“Richards wouldn’t tell me where – oh God, you fucking love it, just listen to you moan like a slut, move like that, yeah, like that- he wouldn’t tell me where you were ‘till I-I killed Johnny. F-Fucking sell-out, Richards.”

Stark broke into sobbing laughter, arms trembling as he balanced, withstanding Rogers’ punishing pace. “Damn –choke- damn kid. Burned my face.”

“Broke his neck with my shield.”

Laughter dissolved into moaning when Rogers’ cock hit the little bundle of nerves inside Stark. The scarred maniac bit back a whimper.

“C’mon, c’mon. Whine, bitch. Whine for me.” The thrusts grew more demanding but never uncontrolled.

“N-no.” Stark pushed back in time with the thrusts which made Rogers groan and speed up.

“You will, eventually. I’ll make you,” promised Rogers, then as an afterthought, continued with his narration. “He wouldn’t take me to his stupid portal, wouldn’t teach me how to work it open.” Rogers reached down between Stark’s legs to find, much to his delight if his psychotic grin was anything to go by, a rock hard erection. Rogers stroked roughly and Stark shuddered with a low-pitched moan that renewed his fervor.

“I killed Ben. That’s when Richards opened the portal for me. Sue would’ve been next if he hadn’t seen to reason. She was with child so I was glad it didn’t have to come to that.” His movements slowed down as he reminisced.

“Don’t, don’t stop you asshole!”

Rogers smirked; he thrust harder, tugged at the length in his hand dragging out moans and curses.

“Whine for me. Say you are my f-fucking bitch.”

“Fuck yourself, Rogers!”

“Bad, bad slut.” Rogers clicked his tongue and then stopped completely, deep bruises forming under his iron grip on Stark’s hip.

“Reed must’ve closed the portal by now, we are stuck here. Idiot.” Sneered the crazed version of Tony Stark. “And I’m going to chop your pathetic manhood off if you don’t make me come within the next two minutes.”

“I killed Reed after he activated the Portal and Sue’s in Latveria. I’m not sloppy, unlike you.” He moved again and drove in wild, hard, making Stark loose his balance and fall. He didn’t mind, though, just pounded into his prone form on the floor.

“Lift me up and jack me off.” Stark ordered, hands scrambling to regain some footing. He was close, very close. Surprisingly, Rogers did as he was told, partly at least, encircling the Iron Maniac’s frame with both arms, sitting him up onto his lap, forcing his legs to spread wider.

“Say you are my bitch or jack yourself off.” Rogers said with a wicked smirk. Wedged impossibly deep in Stark’s body and with hands firmly holding him by the waist, Rogers pushed up, in and in.

Stark whimpered at the force of the thrusts, snaked a hand down to stroke himself fast and rough.

“Fuck you.” He snarled, rested his back on his fellow madman’s chest and reached with his free hand to his own balls and squeezed. A whine escaped his mouth but he was too far-gone to care.

“You are mine. You always were, weren’t you? I just didn’t know it.” Rogers bit down on a corded shoulder and that was it, with two more powerful snaps of his hips Stark was coming with embarrassing little whines and whimpers accompanying every pulse of his cock.

Completely wrung out, limp and draped over the broad body behind him, strong hands lifted Stark up a few inches, the Captain’s reddened thick length sliding out until only the tip remained inside velvety heat.

“Oh God.”

Stark’s body was brought down hard and Rogers had no rhythm, no control anymore. He took everything he wanted, he bit and sucked whatever expanse of skin his mouth fell on. Stark turned so he could lick the sweat off of the strong neck to his right. He was kissed with fierce passion in answer, sharp teeth sinking into his lower lip, cutting.

For a little while the room was quiet, only the sounds of sex, the slap of flesh on flesh and the muffled moans and reluctant whines of a man forcefully taken, the groans and filthy praises of his tormentor, breaching the silence.

“Say you are my bitch.”

“S-shut up and come inside me already.”

Rogers did. He clutched the man in his arms tight, earning a surprised yelp from him, filled him with his seed.

Once both regained their ability to breathe properly, Rogers broke the silence. “It reeks in here.”

“Ever the genius. Dead guy, pool of blood, life support juice, sex fluids, sweaty super soldier. Your pick.”

With a pained hiss, Stark dislodged from his partner. “Now what?”

“Now we go home.” Replied Rogers, zipping himself up. When he looked back at the Iron Maniac, his eyes locked on his chest and his fingers mapped the gruesome Y scar. “But first, we give payback to whoever did this to you.”

“Doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t remember anyway, I was too drugged to notice anything.” Wobbly legs failed to support Stark but his fall was cut short by a swift arm around his torso.

“I can do a quick search through these people’s files. They think I’m their boss.” Rogers flung Tony over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold, a hand placed solidly on the back of his thighs to secure his grip.

“I just want to go home, as fucked up a place as it is. I hate it here.”

No man should be able to crane his neck so easily at such a hard angle without a strain, but of course Rogers would have no problem achieving the feat. Stark tried to look back at him but he only got as far as to see a square strong chin and a pair of lips set in a tight line.

“You don’t get it, Tony. No one touches what’s mine.”

“That’s why you killed Richards? Because you could’ve let him live, there were other ways to keep him from closing the portal.”

Rogers turned serious. Stopped in mid stride to the room’s exit.

“He was a bad man.”

Silence. Quiet.

The two men burst into hysterical laughter, laughter so loud the door opened and a SHIELD agent popped in.

“Sir? Agent Dean? Everythi—“ the man, not too young, not too old, retched.

Rogers delivered a hook to the agent’s weakened stomach with his free hand, when the man doubled over he kicked him to the floor and crushed his windpipe with the heel of his boot in a quick blow.

“He’s your size.” Rogers said to Stark, looking down at his kill.

“No way. I’m sticky, bloody and have glass shards all over. Take me to the showers first.”

Rogers rolled his eyes.

The room was left with two corpses, one of them stripped bare, a shattered stasis tube and a green-reddish mess on the floor. Broken glass everywhere.

\----  


“According to the camera’s clock, this was two hours ago. That right?”

“Yes, Sir. The cameras have them entering the shower room and later leaving the Helicarrier on a flying car. No one recognized the prisoner since he wore a SHIELD uniform and no one suspected from, well—er—the other Commander Rogers.”

Steve and Wolverine were the only ones apparently unaffected by the security recording that almost the whole of the Avengers and some SHIELD agents had just watched. Spider-Man had heaved in his mask when the necrophilia had been mentioned and been excused since then from the rec room. Jessica’s face had paled visibly and had almost fainted. And that look of appalled disgust on Luke’s face seemed like it’d never go away; Iron Fist had closed his eyes when the sex began but had stayed and listened nonetheless. Other reactions had ranged between revulsion, shock and indignation.

No one could tell Tony’s reaction though. He was in the Iron Man armor and the helmet hid his face. He hadn’t said a thing since the video had begun to play.

“Anyone else caught something useful for their capture?” Asked Steve to the room.

“Besides what you’ve already got? No,” squeaked Carol.

“Alright, they are clearly going after someone if we go by what that other me said, any ideas?” Steve looked around. A SHIELD agent raised a trembling hand.

“Yes, Agent Ross?”

“Osborn.” Said the uniformed woman. “Osborn did things to him, to- to the Iron Maniac, in the ground facilities. I heard rumors.”

Steve nodded. “I want a full report on that.” He looked at the agent next to him. “Bring me all and any files regarding Osborn and his time as Deputy Director of H.A.M.M.E.R.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Two sets of feet strode across the room at a quick pace.

“Luke, you and your Avengers go to The Raft, you’ll watch over Osborn. The others split into teams and look for any unusual energy signals, find their portal. Thing, you pick two teammates and go warn Reed that the Iron Maniac is on the loose again, this time with an equally dangerous ally. They might go after him too.” Instructed Steve to the Avengers, then to the remaining SHIELD agents he ordered, “Go get ready the lab analysis for me.”

The room emptied at once but for Commander Rogers and Iron Man; everyone else seemed happy to be dismissed, grateful to have something to distract their minds from what they had had to witness.

That’s when Steve let himself rest an outstretched hand against the wall and sag slightly forwards, head low and eyes closed. He was tired.

“I’m sorry about Dean and Estevez.” Iron Man said at last. The armor retreated to reveal a human hand that hovered over Steve’s shoulder, unsure if the touch would be welcomed or not.

“You are not him, I’m not him. We’d never be like that. We’d never be so cruel, so twisted.” Clear blue eyes bore into the narrow slates of the armor’s helmet. “You know I hate to talk to you with that thing on.”

Tony reabsorbed the helmet, his face was missing some color and his features were drawn. “I’m sorry.”

“To be honest, I didn’t want anyone to watch that.“

“We need to know everything we can about our enemy, the way they talk, the way they move, they way they think. That other Stark has already impersonated me in the past.”

Steve stood right, looked directly into his teammate’s eyes. “Their timeline is relatively identical to ours up until Titannus, except they never disbanded.”

“I know, you told me.”

There was something in Steve’s stare, something Tony couldn’t quite place.

“He said, I mean, the alternate me implied that his Stark was, had always been… but you, you don’t, do you?” The former Captain America would appear calm to anyone else but Tony had known him long enough to tell when he was anxious.

“Would it change anything?”

Steve looked around, licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair before his gaze settled back on the one other person in the room.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Then,” replied Tony, his helmet slowly pouring back, a sad smile on his face, “Then I guess I don’t know either.” He said and turned to leave.

“Yeah, it’s better this way, isn’t it?”

Iron Man stood by the door, waiting for his fellow Avenger and then both men walked shoulder to shoulder to the Helicarrier’s bridge. They had two crazed super villains to catch.


End file.
